


Nick Stays

by babybluebutterfly



Category: The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: AU - Nick Stays, Alternate Ending, Angst, Gen, This is just my English homework dudes, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybluebutterfly/pseuds/babybluebutterfly
Summary: ‘I suppose Daisy’ll call too’ Gatsby said after a few moments.That ever-present air of hope still shone through in his voice, and it was then that a sudden and rather chilling realisation came to mind. Hope was all that Gatsby had left.





	Nick Stays

‘I’ll call you about noon.’

We walked slowly down the steps.

‘I suppose Daisy’ll call too’ Gatsby said after a few moments.

That ever-present air of hope still shone through in his voice, and it was then that a sudden and rather chilling realisation came to mind. Gatsby had built up his whole world around a single person. His fortune, his fame, his façade; all of it had been constructed to bring Daisy Buchanan joy. And yesterday, confronted with the full-force of his deception, all he had worked for crumbled away as fast as Daisy’s faith in him disappeared. Hope was all that Gatsby had left.

Something about the concept of that made me halt where I stood. Tom and Daisy had, as far as I had seen, reconciled last night, a fact that Gatsby could not possibly be aware of. I didn’t think it likely that Daisy would call, yet I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

‘I suppose so.’ is all I could respond with; then, after a moment more ‘Pardon me for changing my mind, but I don’t suppose the offer of staying is still open, is it?’

Gatsby looked surprised for the briefest moment, before a warm, grateful smile tugged itself onto his face.

‘Why, of course it is, old sport.’

He placed his hand companionably on my shoulder as we turned back and made our way back towards his grand house.

My thoughts went back to work, and the job that was still awaiting me. But, I believe that Gatsby needed my company more than Wall Street needed an unfocused mind. And so I stayed.

Much of the day we spent simply talking, sitting upon a pair of chairs set out in a shady spot overlooking Gatsby’s pool and, beyond that, the Sound. We reminisced about our respective lives, both mutually avoiding the events of the previous day. The air was almost still for a while, and the Sound appeared smooth and calm, more akin to a carpet than a great body of water. You could see the Buchanan residence quite clearly across the gently rippling sea, and I wondered what they might be doing. What could one possibly do after a night like last night?

After a few hours of conversation, the topic turned back to the aforementioned swimming pool. This time, I accepted Gatsby’s offer.

‘Let me just go fetch my bathers from my place.’ I said.

‘Alright, I’ll meet you back here soon.’

A few minutes later, I returned clad in my swimwear and with a towel under my arm. Gatsby turned to greet me as I arrived. I smiled and waved to him from where I stood on the opposite side of the pool. It was then that I noticed Wilson standing on the stairs behind him, and my smile faltered. More than that, I noticed the pistol he held, pointed right at…

‘Gatsby!’ I cried out loudly.

I had no chance to say any more, as the moment the words left my mouth, a deafening bang rang out through the air. As quickly as it had begun, the deed was done, and Gatsby’s body, moments ago filled with energy and vigour, fell to the ground with a sick thud. I moved almost unconsciously, and found myself knelt by his side, shaking and squeezing his hand to try and keep him awake.

‘Call for a doctor!’ I yelled, almost pleading, as if hoping god himself might hear and send help.

Several servants rushed off at that to find anything or anyone that might help. In the frantic rush that ensued, Wilson was momentarily forgotten, sobbing to himself and begging god and his wife for forgiveness. I didn’t dare look when a second shot went off behind me.

Gatsby lay silently shaking, coughing on the ground in front of me. Blood began to stain the front of his shirt as it pooled beneath him. I couldn’t say anything, even as the light faded from his eyes. Now lying limp on the ground before me, I was struck with a sense of oppressive finality.

Jay Gatsby was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you enjoy, please leave a like!


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